


Three fights Alex and Henry never had

by floatingaway4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, sexy positive reinforcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28957008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4
Summary: Yes, Alex and Henry got their Happily Ever After. But that doesn't mean everything was just automatically perfect when they moved in together...
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 204





	Three fights Alex and Henry never had

_“That’s impossible,” June insisted._

_“I don’t know what to tell you,” Alex shrugged. “We don’t.”_

_“Alex, all couples fight.”_

_“We don’t.”_

_“I mean, you can’t still be in the honeymoon phase.”_

_“I’m not saying we don’t disagree about things. We argue, we just don’t fight.”_

_“But--”_

_“Look, Junebug, we went through a lot of shit to be together. We’re not gonna throw it all away over whose turn it is to take out the trash.”_

**ONE**

Henry has a novel in his right hand, balanced on the wide arm of their sofa. Alex is leaning into his left side, his head resting on Henry’s shoulder, reading articles on his phone. He occasionally reads sections aloud to get Henry’s opinion or because he likes the way something was worded. 

After about half an hour, Henry nudges Alex with his shoulder. “Are you married to that position?” 

“Oh, shit, sorry, am I hurting you? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Henry thinks for a second. He's still learning to speak up for himself, the way he did with his grandmother. He starts to say that his family just isn’t physically affectionate, the way Alex’s is. That he didn’t grow up being hugged or held as often as Alex did. That he’s just not used to having someone in his physical space all the time and he’s still adjusting. He could ask Alex to move, and he would. 

But then he thinks about all the time he spent alone at the palace, wishing Alex was there and not only with him through little text bubbles or video calls.

The time before Alex, not so long ago, when Henry was _always_ alone. Even when people were around. 

He thinks about how nice it is to be able to kiss Alex, to bury his face in his hair, without even needing to move more than an inch. 

Maybe instead of doing what he’s used to, he could get used to something new. 

He _wants_ to get used to this. 

Henry realizes Alex is still looking up at him, waiting, and he laughs. “No, but I like being able to touch you and it’s rather difficult when you’ve pinned my arm to my side.” 

Alex reaches around and lifts Henry’s arm over himself, burrowing closer to Henry’s side. Henry runs his newly-freed hand over Alex’s hip. 

“Better?” Alex asks. 

Henry pictures himself alone in his old, overly formal bedroom again. He turns and drops a kiss in Alex’s curls. 

“Much.” 

  
  


**TWO**

“Just ...don’t. Okay? Just let me do it.” 

“Alex, I can’t expect you to do everything.” 

“It’s not everything, it’s just laundry, babe. I got it.” 

Henry trudges upstairs. Alex starts to follow him, but stops himself. He winces when he hears Henry shut himself in their bedroom. It’s almost worse that he closed the door quietly, instead of slamming it. 

“Fuck.” Alex runs a hand through his hair, stares at the shrunken silk shirt he’ll have to throw away and replace. He knows Henry will buy him a new one, knows it shouldn’t be a big deal. But wasting money still kills him, even if Henry is insanely rich. 

He sits down on the steps, holding the mess of a shirt in his hands. David comes up and nudges his hand, wanting to be pet. “Hey, little buddy.” Alex puts the shirt down on the floor and points at it. “Want this? You can use it for your bed if you want.” David sniffs at it, turns himself around a few times, and lays down. It makes Alex smile a little. 

He hates making Henry feel bad, and he can practically _feel_ the sadness wafting down from upstairs. Henry was just trying to help. It’s not his fault he grew up with servants. Alex would be way more angry if Henry waltzed around the house expecting everything to be done for him. Actually, if Henry was that type of person, they probably never would’ve fallen in love. (They would’ve hooked up... Alex isn’t proud of that, but it’s a fact.) 

It's not like Alex never messed stuff up. He can remember when he and June first started to stay home alone after school and how they were expected to help around the house. He'd turned a whole load of underwear pink, so his mom….

Alex grins. “Hey, David, I think I know what to do.” 

Alex takes pictures of their washer and dryer, then sits down at his laptop. 

About an hour later, he knocks gently on their bedroom door. 

“Come in.” 

Henry is curled up on the bed with his back to the door, and Alex wants nothing more than to spoon him. But that’s not why he’s here. 

“You don’t have to knock on your own door, Alex,” Henry tells him without looking up. 

Alex walks around and sits on the edge of the bed. Henry hasn’t been crying, but he’s definitely been moping. Alex reaches out and brushes a hand through his hair. 

“I’m not mad, babe. It’s just a shirt.” 

Henry shakes his head without lifting it from the pillow. “Doesn’t matter. I’m mad at myself. I’m almost 25 years old and have learned absolutely nothing practical in my entire life.” 

Alex smiles gently at him. “Right. You haven’t.” 

Henry looks up at him, finally, looking a little lost. “Right,” he repeats. 

“You _haven’t_ learned, because no one taught you.” Alex can’t help the pride in his voice at his own little realization. He reaches for Henry's hand, tugs it gently. “Come on. Come downstairs with me.” 

Henry sits up slowly, suspiciously, but follows Alex down to the second floor. Alex opens the door to the laundry room. With a flourish, he shows Henry the pieces of paper on the counter across from the machines. “I made lists. I mean, it’s what I do. But these are lists of what goes in the washer together, and what doesn’t go in, and what water temperature you use, and I added pictures of the dials and the soap so you’d know what to use with each kind of fabric…” He gestures toward the shelf above the washer. “And I put color-coded sticky notes on the detergent and fabric softener so…” 

Henry takes Alex in his arms and kisses him, long and lazy and slow. When he pulls back, he’s smiling. “Thank you, love.” 

Alex beams at him. “No problem. I mean, if I had to live in the palace, you know how many official protocol things I’d fuck up? How many times I’d...I don’t know, eat with the wrong fork or curtsy to the wrong person?” 

“Men don’t curtsy, they bow,” Henry says, with a gentle smirk. 

“See?” Alex says. “And you’d help me with all that royal shit, so, I can help you with the, um, non-royal stuff.” 

Henry laughs. Alex’s arms tighten around his waist. 

“And tomorrow,” Alex whispers in his ear, like he’s about to share a deeply personal secret, “I’m going to show you where the dry cleaner is.” 

**THREE**

Henry stares into the sink as he rinses his mug. It’s a lovely rainbow-striped mug he was given when he participated in a fundraiser for the HRC. The print on the bottom notes it should be hand-washed, so he picks up the liquid soap and squirts some inside. 

While he’s scrubbing it with the little nylon brush, he continues to stare down at the crusty, dirty dishes already sitting there. He sighs. 

He refuses to act like a parent. He is most certainly not Alex’s father. If they did have children, he could lecture them about not leaving dishes in the sink (“ _The dishwasher is literally centimetres away_ ,” he’d tell them, and perhaps threaten to withhold their allowance. He’d be a good dad, he thinks. He hopes.) And maybe while he’s lecturing them, Alex would take the hint. Or he could ask Alex to help him set a good example for their (future, hypothetical) children, and that would make him feel less...critical. Less like a nagging spouse.

He dries his mug--it’s one of his favorites-- and puts it away carefully. He stares again at the mess in the sink and sighs. Again. 

He isn’t going to clean it up. He’s not. He’s not Alex’s parent, and he’s not the maid either. 

And besides, Henry has to go to work. 

He loves the fact that he has a real job, now. A job that involves more than “making appearances” or cutting ribbons or giving speeches. He goes to the shelter most weekdays and even some weekends, to do real, meaningful work. Even if he wasn’t living with the love of his life, Henry would be incredibly, immeasurably happy. 

Now if he could just get Alex to stop leaving dirty dishes in the sink. 

He arrives at the shelter and is greeted by a few of the kids leaving for school. He heads for his office and quickly checks his email. Seeing nothing urgent, he heads for his favorite spot in the building, the library. He’s proud of this room. He did his own research and ordered many of the books on the shelves. He’s learned so much about YA literature, and discovered so many books with queer characters. He added some because the kids requested them, and he was happy to oblige. Of course, the classics are here, too, their names on the spines like a list of old friends. 

He straightens a few of the books, flips through a couple of the newer ones, and wipes dust off one of the shelves. He crosses his arms, content with the space he’s provided for readers. There are beanbag chairs, tables, and small loveseats. There are headphones and tablets for those who prefer to listen to audiobooks, because they can’t read or because they’d just rather listen. They haven’t had any blind residents yet, but Henry knows those with poor sight also prefer audio books. He’s got a connection to get some books in braille, if anyone ever requests them. His selection of books in Spanish could be bigger, and he makes a mental note to ask the current residents for suggestions. 

He pushes in a chair, wipes eraser dust off a table surface. It looks good, welcoming. This room makes him happy. 

He starts to leave and his eyes are drawn to the top two shelves closest to the door, where they keep professional books for staff. There are books on teaching life skills, basic counseling techniques, working with traumatized children….

And there’s a book on behavior management. 

Curious, Henry hooks a finger over the spine and pulls it out. The cover art seems to indicate it’s meant for teachers working in a crowded classroom. He flips it open and skims the chapter titles, with words like ‘token economy’ and ‘negative reinforcement’ and ‘why yelling doesn’t work’. One chapter in particular sticks out: “ _Catch ‘em being good_.” 

Henry starts reading. 

He moves slowly over to the big wooden table, pulls out a chair, and sits down. 

_“Immediate, positive reinforcement is easily implemented and highly effective for changing behavior.”_

An hour later, he’s still there. And he has an idea. 

The problem with this system is he has to be patient. Alex can leave dishes in the sink for _days_ , apparently, and Henry has to resist every single urge he has to just wash them himself. He reminds himself he has a long-term goal here and forces himself to ignore the funky smell that starts to permeate the kitchen. He has to go back and read the chapter again. 

_“If they do not spontaneously demonstrate the desired behavior, you can initially encourage them, or even prompt them to do so.”_

After three days, they’re finishing dinner and Henry asks Alex to put the dishes in the dishwasher while he gets dessert ready. Alex gets up from the table, rinses off their plates, and opens the dishwasher. 

_“The reinforcement must be immediate”_

As soon as he puts the dishes in and closes the door, Henry grabs his chance, slinking up behind Alex at the kitchen counter and massaging his shoulders. 

“Hey, what-- _oh_ ,” Alex blurts out, as Henry turns him around and hits his knees. 

“Uh, what about dessert?” Alex squeaks. 

Henry runs his hands up and down Alex’s sweatpants, before he just tugs them down. “You’re my dessert,” Henry murmurs, taking Alex’s cock in his hand and licking it, swirling his tongue around the tip. He uses his hand, too, jacking Alex slowly, firmly, smirking up at the look of shock on Alex’s face. Once Alex starts to get hard, Henry takes him in his mouth. 

He’s not one to brag, but Henry knows if blow jobs were an Olympic sport, he’d have definitely been on the podium. He looks up to see Alex’s hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. After just a couple minutes, he’s sweaty, and breathing hard, and staring down at Henry like he’s a god. He’s biting his lip, until he’s not, and he’s suddenly tugging at Henry’s hair and whimpering and babbling, “ _Oh fuck, oh god, Henry I oh I guhhh I_ \--” 

And Henry swallows it all. 

Henry stands, gracefully, casually, pulling Alex’s pants up as he goes. He wraps his arms around Alex’s waist, feels the sweet shivers beneath his warm skin, drops a chaste, quick peck on his lips. 

“Wha--” Alex tries, pupils blown and still breathless. “What was that for?” he finally manages. 

Henry shrugs, smiles innocently, and turns to pull the ice cream from the freezer. 

The next two nights, Henry asks Alex to put dishes in the dishwasher after dinner. As soon as he does, Henry rewards him accordingly. The third night, Alex does it without prompting. He still gets his reward. He doesn't seem to have any awareness of why all this is happening, and that’s just fine with Henry. 

They’re both getting something they want. 

_“When the behavior has begun to occur more consistently, reinforce it less regularly. An intermittent reward system is one of the best ways to ensure the continuing demonstration of the desired behavior.”_

Over the next few weeks, Alex jumps up to put dishes in the dishwasher after meals, with a little zip in his step and a smile on his face. Henry feels like a fucking magician. He still occasionally rewards Alex, but tries to keep it to about once a week on random nights. 

About a month later, Henry is rinsing his favorite mug before he leaves for work. He looks down and realizes the sink has been spotless for weeks now. 

He walks to the shelter, sits down at his desk, and places an order through his local bookshop. 

Might as well buy a copy to keep at home, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I had one of these snippets sitting in a draft for a while and then some people on the server were talking about how quickly the boys moved in together (*cough* U-Haul lesbians) --and it finally motivated me to finish this. I wish I could remember who was in that chat! 
> 
> Hope you like it! 
> 
> Are you a little obsessed with this book? Like talking about it 24/7? So do we! Come hang with us! 
> 
>   
> [RWRB Discord Server: A Gray Area](https://discord.gg/JwardtVJRV)


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